A New Declaration

Memorial Day weekend causes most of us to pause for at least a few moments to remember and honor those who fought to provide us our freedom, and indeed those who continue to stand vigil for that freedom to endure. But what exactly is it those who fought and died actually secured for us? And how have we preserved what they provided us?

Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness – those familiar words from that awesome and precious document sum up the American experience. And yet, that document, and indeed the seemingly enduring truths spoken therein; that manuscript for which so many gave their lives… has been rewritten! Rewritten? Yes it has - at least in the hearts and minds of many.

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...where along the way did the “right to pursue happiness” become the “right to happiness”?

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Do you remember Don Corleone, the Godfather? He summed up the spirit of America in one short statement. The scene was a meeting with a man who wanted to corner the cocaine market. The Godfather refused to be involved in the drug trade (what an honorable man, huh?), but then he said something profound; something that in a sentence defines America - “I wish you well in your new business, so long as your interests don’t conflict with mine.”

Of course, we don’t wish drug dealers well in their endeavors, but get the point - “… so long as your interests don’t conflict with mine.” THAT, my friend, is America.

America was formed and forged by men who yearned to be free. They weren’t asking for a hand out; just the opportunity to make it on their own… the right to pursue their own brand of happiness. And for a time it was working fine. The West was won, fortunes were made, and anybody that was willing to apply the gifts the Good Lord gave them could spend a lifetime pursuing happiness.

So tell me – where along the way did the “right to pursue happiness” become the “right to happiness”? Perhaps it was the McDonald's commercial that told us that we deserve a break today. That mindset took off like wildfire so that now we are told we deserve a good night’s sleep, and we deserve a vacation in the Bahamas.

Tell me, does every kid in the local soccer league deserve a trophy, even if their team didn’t win a single game? Does every teen deserve a free college education even if his parents sat on their lazy duffs, because they deserved to? And now, if I haven’t dug a deep enough hole for myself, is someone entitled to a new house at the government’s expense because the house they bought a couple of miles from the ocean and 5 FEET BELOW SEA LEVEL was destroyed in a hurricane?

So what do we deserve? Well, first we deserve life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. And if we work hard we deserve a paycheck. And if we use that money wisely (or what’s left of it after the government takes a cut for all those that deserve it), perhaps we will find that happiness we have the right to pursue.

So on this Memorial Day weekend get out there and start living the dream. I wish you well in your endeavors, so long as your interests don’t conflict with mine.


Photo Statue of Liberty used by permission.

Relative Prosperity

You may be familiar with a teaching prevalent in charismatic churches known as the “prosperity message”. I have referred to it in previous writings as the Name it and Claim It, the Blab It and Grab It, and my all time favorite, the Call It and Haul It message. The prosperity message basically teaches that God’s will is for you to be prosperous and not poverty stricken. Purveyors of this doctrine find ample scriptural basis to support their contention that we have been redeemed from the “curse” of poverty, and God wants the best for his children.

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The image of “prosperity” looks vastly different from one continent to another… sometimes even from one part of town to another...

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Sounds cool, huh! And yet this casts an awkward shadow for those who serve God by a vow of poverty. Far be it from me to even speculate, much less opinionate on the discrepancies of these two mindsets. And yet, even a smidgen of pondering brings the realization that the image of “prosperity” looks vastly different from one continent to another… sometimes even from one part of town to another.

A pair of hand-me-down shoes acquired by the average citizen of a village in the African interior might catapult him into the realm of the elite, looking down his nose at the bare-of-foot. But on the other side of the world, driving last year’s sports car may diminish a man’s social status in the eyes of his upper middle class buddies.

Now, while I do recognize a certain responsibility to reach out with help to those less fortunate, I also remember that it was by hard work, sacrifice and perseverance that this experiment in democracy known as the Unites States of America became the nation to which the whole world stretches out an open hand for aid. And I feel no shame for the relative prosperity with which my nation, and indeed I have been blessed.

In light of this conversation I pray, “God, forgive me for my grumblings that I have to mow my own lawn in this time of “financial hardship”, and thank you for the riding mower you have provided… oh yeah, and the house that came with this scraggly yard!” Amen

This “prosperity message” mindset soon spilled over into other, more non-financial areas of life. When we were expecting my firstborn I determined it would be a boy. I thought I wanted a boy, so I foolishly prayed and asked God for a boy. Then I started “claiming” it. I came up with a name; Samuel Levi Kepler. (You would think I would be smarter than to give a kid the initials SLK, but then I gave my second born the initials JRK… sorry John!) And I told everybody we were having a son. I even enrolled Samuel in an NFL fan club and he got some really cool stickers in the mail. He never got the chance to play with them because he never existed, so I played with them for him.

So finally that day came - I remember it like it was yesterday. When Rebekah was born the doctor said, “Congratulations, it’s a girl!” I was so caught off guard that I had to look for myself to confirm it. Yep, that’s a girl alright. Confused, I decided to keep her anyway. And I soon learned that God knew best – this Rebekah kid was the most awesome kid a man could ever want! I’m sure Samuel could not have compared to Rebekah in cool-factor!

So, the doctrine of Blab It and Grab It notwithstanding, I have learned that it’s always best to seek out and go with God’s plan rather than dreaming up my own. See, I did get that son after all – the second time around. And John actually tied Rebekah on that cool-factor scale I mentioned earlier. Now that’s what I call Relative Prosperity (your kids are your relatives aren’t they?)!

And by the way Rebekah, I owe you some football stickers!


Photo: Sneakers used by permission

Fear and Atmosphere

My brother used to have a funny illustration he offered when somebody jokingly threatened him with bodily harm, as guys often do. He would boldly declare, “There’s nothing between us but fear and atmosphere!” Then he would make a grand and animated sucking gesture, as if to draw in all the air between him and his antagonist. What followed next was the joke’s grand finale’ - “Now there’s just fear!” Sometimes I will double up my fist and threaten him with a big ole' pop-knot just to see him do his grand sucking gesture.

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When you visit a far away state and people hear you are from Oklahoma, they always say the same thing, “How can you live there with all those tornadoes?”

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But as spring approaches, the phrase “Fear and Atmosphere” is something with which Oklahomans are all too familiar. Right down the middle of America is a pathway known as Tornado Alley. It starts in Texas and runs up though the entire Midwest, spreading wider as it goes. And with Oklahoma at ground zero, we have more tornadoes per whatever measure you chose to use, than all the rest.

Usually the season starts in early spring and doesn’t taper off until the heat of summer arrives. But, with very little activity so far, this year appeared as if it might be an exception to the fearful times brought on by tornado season. But alas, this evening ended that pipe dream. We were forewarned that this would be an “active” day, and active it was. I left work a bit early and hurried home, listening to the radio as a guy described a tornado headed right toward me. Just as I pulled into my driveway that tornado touched down at an intersection I had passed just a few minutes before – another bullet dodged.

And then, from the safety of my home I watched on television as tornadoes, one after another, destroyed homes and businesses as they tore through the middle of our fair state. The casualty count is just starting to be reported, and it appears that, while some have died the loss of life and limb may be relatively light considering the awesomeness of the storms. For that we thank God, and offer prayers for those that were not so fortunate.

When you visit a far away state and people hear you are from Oklahoma, they always say the same thing, “How can you live there with all those tornadoes?” I considered moving to Florida or the eastern seaboard, but I can’t imagine having to dodge those hurricanes. California seems like a great place to live until you get caught in a mudslide… or worse, an earthquake. It seems safe up north, but I’m way too claustrophobic to live under several feet of snow. I could move to Chicago, but I drove through Chicago once. No thank You!

So I’ll just stay right here in Oklahoma where I’ve learned to trust in the good Lord and the local weather men. Oh, it takes courage, as they are now reporting that the next couple of days could be a repeat of what we saw today. But we Okies are a courageous lot.

But courage can be a fleeting thing. Sometimes you have to practice it. I don’t know how other Okies practice their courage, but I like to double up my fist and threaten my brother with a big ole’ pop-knot!


http://www.everystockphoto.com/photo.php?imageId=1050536

SPOILER ALERT!

YESTERDAY
When I was a kid growing up in Oklahoma City we had three TV channels from which to select our evening viewing entertainment. That is, unless you count the educational channel, which I didn’t. So we would anxiously await the Sunday newspaper to retrieve the weekly TV guide, where we could see with which movies the programming gods had graced us.

Fast forward to the mid seventies, and the announcement that OKC is getting it’s first UHF channel. Wow, a fourth channel. That’s a 33% increase in our viewing pleasure – a windfall by any standard! And who cared if an old, burned out radio personality with his evangelist hair-do was botching the news. Hey… that’s entertainment!

Then came cable TV with its superstations - packed with I Love Lucy reruns and regional sports programming. And suddenly we all knew the names and phone numbers of all the local bail bondsmen in Chicago, Atlanta and Dallas.

TODAY
But now… now we have not three stations but three providers from which to choose. And regardless of whether you’re a cable guy or you own a dish, you have literally hundreds of stations at your finger tips. And yet, there’s nothing to watch!

For instance, here’s one sample of today’s TV fare:

Deadliest Catch – A show about fishing boats bobbing up and down in the wild and wooly Northern Pacific in quest of riches in the form of crab legs! Don’t they know you can get crab legs at your local Red Lobster?

Anyway, the first season of this show featured an episode where a boat kept pulling up empty pots, and the boat owner went bankrupt; and an episode where the storm was so fierce they almost lost their lives; and an episode where a new kid was learning the ropes; and an episode where the boat broke down.

The next season featured an episode where a boat kept pulling up empty pots, and the boat owner went bankrupt; and an episode where they storm was so fierce the almost lost their lives; and an episode where a new kid was learning the ropes; and an episode where the boat broke down.

SPOILER ALERT – I’ve heard from a reliable source down at Red Lobster that the next season of this show features an episode where a boat keeps pulling up empty pots, and the boat owner goes bankrupt; and an episode where the storm is so fierce they almost lose their lives; and an episode where a new kid is learning the ropes; and an episode where the boat breaks down.

TOMORROW
Tomorrow I think I’ll play outside!

http://www.everystockphoto.com/photo.php?imageId=3236906

The Importance of Being Important

I used to be a Very Important Person. It was something I had wanted for awhile… being an important person that is; and it felt good to be so important. But after a short time of being important I learned that it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and what’s worse, there are certain hazards to being such an important person. If you have a desire to become an important person you may want to lend an ear for a moment. You’ll thank me later.

It was the year of the big San Francisco earthquake. No… not the 1906 earthquake – I was just a pup in 1906. I’m referring to the one in 1989.

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There are certain hazards to being an important person. If you have a desire to become an important person you may want to lend an ear...

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My daughter Rebekah turned five that year, and she spent her weekdays at a daycare that rented facilities from a local church (although not affiliated with the church). The operators of this daycare also ran a Christian school, albeit a rather small one. Well, because I came by every evening to pick up Rebekah, the headmaster of the school asked me if I would consider being on their school’s board of directors.

“Wow”, I thought. Being asked to be on the board of directors of a private school is a pretty impressive thing… something that makes a guy feel important… never mind the fact that the school was small, and as I found out later, quite in debt. (Clue – that “quite in debt” part plays in to the afore-mentioned “hazards”.) I accepted the offer to join the board and was voted in as a director at the next scheduled meeting. And because I came by each day they even made me a signatory on the school’s bank account.

I served proudly for a few months with other parents who had been recruited in the same manner. I signed a lot of checks, and I even got to present a few of those cool motions with lots of “Whereases” and “Therefores” in them. We met once a month, and at every meeting the headmaster would report the financial condition of the school, and then offer his slant on the situation. He always left us with the peaceful feeling that things weren’t as out of control as they appeared, and we were staying a step ahead of financial ruin.

But one of the matters discussed each month was the fact that the taxes withheld from the salaries of the teachers and workers were not being sent in to the IRS regularly… or, as it turned out, at all! Oh, I’m sure you are too smart to serve on a board of directors for an outfit that doesn’t pay its taxes, but have you ever considered how cool it would be to be a Very Important Person? Such a trivial thing as being on the bad side of the IRS pales in comparison to having “Director” on your resume’!

And now it’s time for me to tell you something about the IRS you may not know. When a business such as this doesn’t pay their taxes, the IRS doesn’t care who the board members are or who has been calling the shots. They only want to know who the signatories on the checking account are. See, they figure that the ones signing the checks are the ones who effectively made the decision to pay other things before the taxes. So the teachers and workers got paid, and the venders got paid (at least the lucky ones), and I’m sure the headmaster got paid. But it was “tough luck Uncle Sam” - you’ll get what’s left over, if there ever is any! But there never was.

When I caught wind of the impending IRS problems I tendered my resignation from the board. But alas, by that time I had signed dozens of checks. After several weeks of fear and trembling, the IRS goon called all us signatories to his office for the “settlement conference”. That’s the meeting where you have to disclose every penny, nickel, dime and quarter you own, so they can confiscate it all. But God is good! See, this happened at a time in my life when I was recently divorced and owned nothing but the clothes on my back and a car I would have had to pay to have towed off. I was what they call “judgement proof”!

Oh, they could have won their judgement I suppose. But the IRS apparently figured that our great nation would stand a better chance of remaining a great nation if I got to keep my clothes, and there wasn’t anything else to seize. It never felt so good to be dirt poor and… unimportant!

One of the other guys in the group wasn’t so poor, so he took the lead in working out an arrangement and carried the rest of us on promissory notes. And what did I get out of all this? Well, for a few months I was a Very Important Person… a Director… in fact, a Signatory! I also got to learn more about the IRS than they teach in those big fancy colleges with the shrubs growing on the walls.

And I didn’t even have to get a student loan for all that education. Tough luck, Sally Mae!

The Treasure Hunter

NEWS FLASH: Treasure hunters believe they have found a legendary trove of 18th century jewels and gold coins worth $13 billion on Chile's Robinson Crusoe Island.

Since the beginning of time man has had an unquenchable yearning for a treasure hunt. To find something that doesn’t belong to anybody else and lay claim to it as your own brings a satisfaction beyond compare. Men have spent their entire lives in their quest for treasure, living on the go and sometimes dying in a strange and foreign land… usually just short of their fortune.

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...as would any treasure hunter with an ounce of self respect, I’ve made a map, with an “X” where the treasure is located.

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The tools of a treasure hunter vary, depending on the nature of the booty. A man in search of gold needs a claim and a sluice, a shovel and pick ax, or at least a pan and a strong back. A beachcomber racing the morning tide needs a metal detector if he wants to locate that sun worshiper’s mislaid watch and ring. A kid retrieving the toy from the bottom of a new box of cereal just needs that five digit tool protruding from the end of his arm.

I address this subject with some authority. See, all my life I have been a treasure hunter. Oh, I’ve never had the chance to pan for gold or scuba dive an ancient shipwreck. I did try metal detecting at a beach once. I didn’t find anything but bottle caps. But I’ve always had the heart of a treasure hunter. In fact, not a day passes that I don’t have a keen eye on the road I’m driving or the path I’m walking, in search of that lost item of great value that was dropped by an unidentifiable party (else I’d be obliged to return it to its rightful owner).

My most recent find was on the way to work this morning. There it was, lying right in the middle of a busy street - a wrench. Traffic was too busy for me to retrieve it, but as would any treasure hunter with an ounce of self respect, I’ve made a map, with an “X” where the treasure is located. And if another lucky seeker of riches doesn’t beat me to it, it will someday be mine!

Now, I already have a toolbox full of wrenches, many of which I found in the middle of the street. And, truth be told, I only use a wrench about three or four times a year. But you have to understand, it’s not the wrench itself; it’s the fact that I found it! That’s the reality of a treasure hunter! My wife will tell you (with much chagrin) that I will drive around 4 city miles just to get a second look at an object in the road, on the slim chance this is has some value… to somebody!

So, what is the most valuable thing I’ve ever found? Well, I found a diamond ring once in the parking lot of a movie theater. And there was that $20 bill blown up against the fence in high school. I actually found a $100 bill once, but it was behind a file cabinet in a county courthouse, so I turned it in to the court clerk, lest I spend more "time" in that courthouse than intended.

But anything I’ve ever found or will find on this earth cannot begin to compare with that great treasure I found the day I met my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. The Amplified Bible calls it “this precious treasure [the divine Light of the Gospel]”, and folks – THAT’S A FIND!

Have you found this great treasure? If not, come on… I’ll help you search!

Photo-Treasure Map used by permission

An Athlete Extraordinaire

Every once in a while there comes along an athlete extraordinaire. We’re talking about a Cy Young Award or a Heisman Trophy winner… perhaps even someone as dominating of his or her particular sport as a Tiger Woods. I believe I have discovered such an incredible athlete.

Now, I’m not really sure how the sports agent business works, but if this kid is really as good as I think he is I may go ahead and make a drastic career change, to represent this boy. Of course, I’m going to have to track him down first. Let me explain.

Tonight was my bi-weekly trip to take my stepson Jerry home to Broken Arrow after a weekend at his mom’s (and my) house. We were driving through Tulsa up the BA Expressway when I noticed a couple of kids playing in a creek bed that passed under the highway. Just as we approached the boys I saw one go into a perfect wind up, as if he were pitching a baseball. But it wasn’t a baseball… it was a rock!

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Maybe I’ve discovered a future Cy Young or Heisman winner...

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And folks, that rock hit my car dead center. Now, had it been high and outside or low and off a tire I wouldn’t have been so impressed. But this rock was definitely in the strike zone. And you have to realize I was driving 65 miles an hour at the time. (In fact, as long as you’re not a State Trooper, I was probably driving about 70).

A few random thoughts:

First, I gather there weren’t any other cars on base or the boy would have thrown from his stretch instead of his windup. (You’d have to be a baseball fan to get that joke, and it still wouldn’t be funny. Sorry.)

Second, right after the kid threw the rock, he ran. Everyone knows the pitcher doesn’t run… the batter does. I’ll probably have to teach him some rules.

Third, the boys were wearing soccer uniforms. I remember thinking, “It’s a crying shame these kids are relegated to playing a sport where you don’t use your arms. Such an arm this kid has!

And fourth, this guy really ought to be playing football. Anyone that can hit a car traveling 70 miles per hour can certainly lead a receiver at any speed and distance!

So maybe I’ve discovered a future Cy Young or Heisman winner... maybe not. But of one thing I am certain – when this boy grows up he will be the star of his ball team… at the State Prison!



Photo Pitcher used by permission